Merdita...

(Habib...my Kosovar Dad - aka Bab in Albanian)

After flying from Seattle, to Dallas, to Orlando, where I spent the night on the floor - to Miami, back to Dallas, to London, to Kosovo, I've made it. I'm not sure, but I feel fairly confident that this was not the most direct flight to Kosovo. After my flight filled up from Seattle to Dallas which caused me to take the next flight out, which ended up being delayed 1.5 hours, causing me to miss my connection in Dallas, meaning I had to spend the night in Orlando - I felt fairly confident that the rest of the trip should be cake. Then when finding out my bags were in Peru, I had to wonder. When I picket up my bags the next day, which were sent to the wrong continent, it looked as though they had been dropped out of the plane...on the bright side everything was still in them.

The day after my bags arrived to Miami, my wonderful friend Seth put me on a plane back to Dallas - turned out this was a better way for me to get to London. Well, my flight to Dallas was delayed, so my already tight connection to London was getting tighter. Before landing I told the flight attendant my story, explaining that if I were to miss my connection I would be spending the next two nights in the airport, due to infrequent flights to Kosovo. She told me to discreetly grab my bags and follow her to the front of the plane - she had no idea that I had six carry on bags, as well as several layers of clothing and my camera strapped around my neck. Needless to say, I was not able to discreetly do anything...I felt like some sort of in-flight freek show circus act. The stuardess started making trips for me, hauling my gear to the front of the plane where another passanger had given up his seat for me...we'll call him John.

Long story short, I lugged my 100 pounds of gear off the plane, hauling buttock to my gate, praying that my plane was still there. God heard my prayers, and thanks to John, and the flight attendant, they had not yet shut the door at the gate, they let me board, and they didn't say anything about my extra carry on bags. They did tell me that my check-in bags would not make the flight, but I didn't care, I just wanted on that plane. Once onboard, the stuardess started cracking jokes about all of my gear, then people around her joined in, but I didn't care, I was home, at least for the next nine hours.

London Gatwick proved to be my most stress-free flight. They didn't say anything about my excess baggage, and I sat by Ilir Idrizi, a nice Kosovar who married a woman from London. The chicken and mushroom pilaf was to die for, as was the ginger sprinkled cheese cake. Before Ilir had ever had cheese cake, he thought it sounded disgusting..."Why would anyone want cake made from cheese?" he asked. Now that he knows there is no cheese in cheese cake, he really likes it. Anyway, after four days in a plane, I'm in Kosovo. I'm not sure where my check-in bags are, but hopefully they will arrive soon.